I Wanna be a Porn Star
by FilthyxMind
Summary: AU The Title, I think, explains itself.


**I wanna be Porn Star

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**Chapter 1**: _Abandon.

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I never meant to get caught jerking Chris Hobbs off in the locker room. I mean, seriously, how was I supposed to know that he was going to show up just at the wrong moment? The wrong moment being: my hand in Chris' pants while he was _supposed_ to be serving his detention. And he was just about to come and everything. Fuck – I would have loved to see the look on Chris' face when he came because, well, you know,_ straight boys_ aren't supposed to enjoy that so much.

When getting it from a **guy** anyway.

Mr. Jenkins, the teacher who had assigned Chris the detention, had looked shocked. Appalled. _Disgusted_. Not only was a student not serving his detention the "correct" way - - there were two gay teenagers in a perfectly good private school! That was the big huge shocker, right there, let me tell ya. "Mr. – Mr. Taylor, H-Hobbs, come with me. _Now_." Now only am I disappointed that I didn't get to see Chris' face when he came because of a guys touch – I'm fucking sick to my stomach. Oh god, my parents are going to fucking _kill_ me.

I look over at Chris and the same worried expression is blatantly written all over his face. He glares at me when we make eye contact and he hurriedly zips up his pants and jumps up off the ground and away from me like I'm a sickening disease. Rolling my eyes, I pick myself up off the ground, brush my pants off and follow behind a still stunned Mr. Jenkins and an angry, not to mention very worried and embarrassed, Chris Hobbs. The only thought running through my mind is: _ShitshitshitFUCK. My dad's going to fucking kill me_.

"Inside, boys."

Mr. Jenkins holds the door to the office open for us and shoos us in looking like he's about to go into cardiac arrest. I know that, if it had been a girl and a guy, he wouldn't have been acting nearly as bad as he is right now. The office secretary looks up at the three of us as we enter, questioning look on her face. Mr. Jenkins runs a hand swiftly over his balding head and tells her that we need to talk to the principle immediately. She nods, jumps out of her chair and hurries into the principles office. Mr. Jenkins looks at us, head shaking.

"I'm astounded, boys, I really am."

Neither of us say a word and the secretary peeps out of the room again.

"You guys can come on in."

She steps fully out and holds the door open for all of us. Mr. Jenkins wastes not time in telling the principle about our dirty deed as soon as the door is shut. "You won't believe what I came across, Sir." Mr. Johnson, the principle, looks slightly bored. He isn't going to look bored in a minute. What he's about to hear will probably be something that's going to wake him up right out of his bored daze he has going on. "And, what would that be, Mr. Jenkins?"

He had probably expected drugs. Alcohol. Not:

"Mr. Taylor and Mr. Hobbs were engaging in **sexual behavior**."

Mr. Johnson chokes on the drink he had been sipping and he quickly sets it down, wiping his mouth off looking simply…like Mr. Jenkins had looked. Shocked. Horrified. I fight off the feeling to roll my eyes at all of this. I shift in the seat that I had been forced to sit in and cross my arms over my chest. I wish this would be over with. I wish I could run. My parents can't find out about this. They just can't. No one can, fuck.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Chris, frown on his face, yells,

"It was all him! He sexually harassed me, sir!"

I glare at him and, of course, immediately protest. "You fucking liar! You _wanted_ it! You were practically begging me to stick my hand in your pants!" Both elder figures looked like that had had enough talk for today. They immediately shut us up and slap us down with the consequences. A call home and suspension.

"We could have expelled you both, but, we're going to give you another chance. Two week suspension."

Mr. Jenkins led us out of the office and we were told to sit in the office until our parents came to pick us up. He disappeared back into the principles office. The minutes passed on and they felt like hours and hours. Soon, my parents would be down here demanding to know what had happened. Demanding to be told that this was all a mistake and that their son hadn't been giving Chris a hand job and that it had all been a major mistake. But that wasn't going to happen. I am so fucked – and not in a good way either…not that I would _know_ how good it felt.

Then they're here. My mom and dad – angry as hell.

They don't say a word to me as we walk to the car. They don't say anything to me as we drive home, me in the backseat dreading the moment when they'll finally talk to me. Then we're home and all is silent as we enter the house. As soon as the door shuts, however, my dad breaks out in a yelling rampage. "What the **hell** were you doing, Justin?" We're in the living room and we all sit down. I'd rather run and hide in my room but that can't happen. They won't allow that. I only shrug, which makes my dad even madder.

"_Fuck_, Justin, tell me what happened."

My mom doesn't even correct him on his language. God, this is so fucking bad.

"I gave him a hand job."

I can't lie. What's the point? What's done is done. My father throws his hands in his graying hair and stands up off the couch, pacing back and forth, yelling out curses. He tells me what a horrible son I am. Then he asks me if I'm gay. Silence. My mom looks on, tears in her eyes. My father watches me intently, anger and fear of what my answer will be on his face. I slowly nod.

"Y-yes."

"I will not be the father of a _gay_ son!"

He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and hauls me up off the couch and all but drags me back to the front door. I'm a crying mess. And not because I know my father's going to kick me out of the house. Because I'd love to get out of the house. I'm crying because my mom's just standing there, tears rolling down her face with a look of horror. "Craig, stop it!" At least she finally says something but he ignores her, opens the front door and pushes me outside.

"And stay out until you're…_fixed_."

Like it's something I can "fix." Fucking bastard. Then the door is slammed in my face and I am royally fucked. Where the hell am I supposed to go? I don't even have any clothes or money. Wiping my tears away I wait a few more seconds to wait and see if my mom will come out and help me with something. Give me some money. Give me some of my clothes, but, she doesn't so I turn around and leave. I go to the first place I know where to go – Daphne Chanders house, my best-friend.

We've been friends since forever.

I know I can count on her.

She's shocked to see me.

She's even more shocked when she hears the story.

She lets me hide out in her room for weeks. I don't know how I hid in her room for that long without her parents ever catching wind of me but, somehow, it worked out. No one knew where I was. No one assumed I was over here for some reason, for which I am glad. Then she tells me that I need to leave. Four weeks has been long enough. It's time for me to go. I had been planning on it anyway. So, I leave and head over to Liberty Avenue. I've been here before, once.

I look around, eyes looking for something to do. _Somewhere_ to go.

Scared out of my mind. Last time I was here the ugliest man had hit on me and tried to get me to come home with him – eww. **Gross**. Biting my bottom lip, one of my many nervous habits, I begin crossing the street still looking for…something. Then I'm on the other side of the street and walking into the Liberty Diner and I sit in the booth at the very back of the diner. I get a coffee with the few dollars that Daphne had given me and just sit there. Thinking about how a hand job could single handedly **ruin my life**. I might just keep my hands to myself for the rest of my life. Ok, yeah, that obviously can't happen but shit. No home, no money, no clothes. Not even a fucking job.

I head out of the diner, the friendly woman with a red wig giving me a huge bye and some free food on the way out, and start walking down the street, hands stuffed in my pockets. I wonder if I look as nervous as I feel. Suddenly someone yells stop. I ignore it. They probably aren't talking to me. Why would they be? Then there's a hand on my shoulder and I quickly turned around, eyes wide with slight shock and fear as to why some random man was stopping me on the street. "U-uh, yes?" The man smiles, arms crossing over his chest and I have the feeling he's not here to ask me to come home with him.

I relax - - slightly.

"Uh – hey, I'm Max."

What the hell is going the fuck on? I only swallow and nod and then decided that I should at least give him my name. It's the polite thing to do. Plus, I don't want to do anything to piss him off - - for all I knew he's some psycho _rapist_.

"J-Justin."

"Nice to meet you, Justin. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

We talked longer than a few minutes. We talked for hours at another smaller diner near where he had stopped me on the street. The things he asked me – god they were fucking personal but, when he told me what business he was, how much I could get paid if I agreed to join him; fuck, I told him everything he wanted to know, blushing periodically but telling him nonetheless. The very first thing he had asked me, after explaining his job, was if I was a virgin or not. Like he had even needed to ask. As soon as I said yes he was totally into me. He wanted me – not in a sexual way, well, sexual, but not for **him**.

"If you want the job - - it's yours."

It had never occurred to me that I could be in porn films. For one, I'm seventeen. It's not even legal – I made sure to tell him and he didn't seem worried – and secondly, I had never needed money before. But, honestly, _porn_? Did I want to lose my virginity that way? Did I want to be exposed to millions across the world or wherever the fuck this was going to be showed losing it to some stranger? Is that what I want for myself? Fuck yes 'cause it makes an assload of money in a short period of time, though, honestly, doing porn isn't at the top of my list.

"I-I want it."

I realize that I don't sound too confident. I also realize that I probably don't look any more confident either. He offers me a kind smile and a pat on the shoulder from across the table. "You'll be fine, kid. Trust me. Here's my card – stop by tomorrow evening and you'll start." He hands me a large card and I shove it into the pocket of my jeans, swallowing own my voice so I can't tell him that I don't want it after all.

I had always been scared at the prospect of having sex. Of having my "cherry popped." Of Losing it. I've always heard how bad it hurts – but I've also heard about how fucking fabulous sex feels. But, I never thought I'd lose it. Not anytime _soon_ anyway. And, here it looked like, I was going to lose it tomorrow evening to a stranger. I felt a clenching in my stomach and I slid down in my seat and watched the retreating back of Max and let go of my breath that I was holding when he disappeared. Oh god – I'm actually scared.

I might as well enjoy my last hours as a virgin.

I stay at the diner all night.

I almost fall asleep in the seat.

* * *

I step into the building, heart beating a million miles per hour. The buildings actually a warehouse. It looks like shit on the outside but pretty nice, I'm surprised, on the inside. Nice enough anyway. Well, nice considering that there are people having sex here as an occupation. Swallowing hard, my mouth feels like cotton, I walk timidly inside, card clenched in my hands and eyes looking for Max. For someone. I don't see anyone at first and then I hear a familiar voice shouting out "Cut! Cut, dammit! I know sex is good but I didn't ask for you to go at it all fucking night!"

That would be Max.

Swallowing again, I look around the corner. Two men, sweaty, covered in come, are wiping off and Max is glancing down at some paperwork. Drawing in a deep breath, I step inside the room and walk up behind him and then I clear my throat to get his attention. A smile blooms on his face when he sees me. "I didn't think you'd show up." Am I really that apparent? Of course I am. My mom had always told me that every single emotion I felt was always displayed in my eyes. I believe her. I feel a small pang in my heart at the thought of my mom but I will it away.

"Here I am.'

"So, you're gonna do this."

"Looks like it."

**Ohgodohgodohgod. **

"Great – nice to have you on board.


End file.
